


Easy

by wintrs



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Reincarnation, really nothing much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintrs/pseuds/wintrs
Summary: Achilles smiles, and it's the easiest thing in the world to just sit and eat corn flakes on a Wednesday morning.





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LonghairedChanyeol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonghairedChanyeol/gifts).



> Underage vaguely implied, not nearly enough to warrant a tag. Nothing serious!

Patroclus smiles, and it's the easiest thing in the world to just sit and eat corn flakes on a Wednesday morning.  
  
They're in Achilles's kitchen, as they so often are. Patroclus is sitting on the right stool of the pristine marble breakfast bar, while Achilles stands over a pan of scrambled eggs at the stove. When these ritual breakfasts had first begun, Achilles had burned the pan of eggs every single time when Patroclus didn't remind him to tend to them. Now, he's become a fairly proficient chef, at least with eggs. Like everything else, Achilles had picked up cooking with ease.  
  
He gives the eggs a final flip, sets down the pan, and turns the stove off. "You want some eggs?" Achilles turns to him, grinning.  The question's a formality now; Patroclus has always been content draining the cereal stores.  
  
"No," he says, slurping down another spoonful, “you go ahead. And hurry up--you do know it’s already 7:15? We’re going to be late.”  
  
Achilles plates his eggs and walks over, taking his seat next to Patroclus. “School’s school. We can always try again tomorrow,” he says. Achilles shrugs, looking entirely unbothered, one eyebrow raised as if daring Patroclus to disagree.

Patroclus takes a bite of cereal. He’s right. 

“School” nowadays is almost completely irreconcilable with how it was back then. Everything’s a test now, and the world seems to spin so much faster. Long gone are the syrupy-sweet days at Mount Pelion, well spent learning how to live off the earth and heal a man with what’s available. Now, he learns how to find the cosine of an angle, and why some pea plants flower purple and others white.

It’s not… bad. Just different.

Patroclus looks up from his cereal. Achilles meets his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. His hair shines in the sunlight streaming in from the window, and it’s almost too easy to lean in, press his lips to Achilles’s and wrap his arms around his waist. He slides off his stool with the guidance of Achilles’s hands on his hips, pressing him back against the table. Achilles pulls away briefly, just long enough to look for the agreement already brimming in Patroclus’s eyes, before reattaching his lips at the base of Patroclus’s throat.

Tomorrow, then.


End file.
